Epitaph
by Ren Zen
Summary: Something inside of him, whether it's hope or just fanciful wishing, knows that this is the name of his mother. Although maybe she isn't, in reality, his mother. But a part of him likes to think that this name, this Uzumaki Kushina, had birthed him. That she died defending her village, as perhaps he one day will. Oneshot


**Epitaph**

He's thirteen when he stumbles upon the stone again. That one near the training post he'd been tied to when Kakashi had given them their test. It's only been a few days since the Hokage's funeral, and though Naruto still smiles that bright smile of his, it's still every bit as fake as it always has been, and perhaps even more strained. The loss of a mentor, a role model, a _friend,_ strikes the boy hard and when he lays in bed at night he stares at the ceiling with a hollow feeling in his chest.

There's no one in his life that could ever replace the old man to him, and with as few people as he truly, deeply, cares about, the loss is a hard blow. But Naruto will endure.

He's always endured.

So one day after training, instead of working himself to exhaustion as he normally does, Naruto goes out to that training field where he truly became a ninja. And as he sits at the post he was once tied to, he thinks about what it _really_ means to be a hero.

Naruto decides that he still stands by what he said in the beginning, that one day he will have his name on this stone.

It's quite a morbid thought for a thirteen year old, but for their world, death tends to come young, and Naruto would much rather die as a _protector_. Die as a ninja that kept his ninja way and died fighting for what he believed in. Though perhaps one day he'll die old, sleeping in his bed, dreaming of the adventures in his youth when he fought with all the passion and fire that burned with the fierceness of the sun. His bones old, his life full, and perhaps then he'll have finally achieved his dream where people are _more_ than just tools to serve and fight for their village.

He thinks that wouldn't be so bad either.

Naruto turns then, clear blue eyes glancing at the memorial before he stands, dusting off his pants lightly, taking the few steps over to the stone and crouching in front of it.

His fingers run lightly over the engraved names, and he's overwhelmed by the sheer _number_ of them. The letters are tiny, carved into the stone in precise symbols, neat and fine, and Naruto wonders vaguely how anyone could be so positively _orderly_ when writing. He doesn't consider that they may use a stamp for the kanji or other such means, though it's likely.

But those calloused fingers trail slowly down the list, skimming over hundreds among thousands of names. He takes a moment to read every single name he sees, silently revering them for their sacrifice of their entire _life_. He goes through the first great war. Through the various names that must simply be mission related. Through the second great war. And when he finally realizes he's in the middle of the _Kyuubi deaths_ his hand shakes and Naruto chokes for a second. It's the two family names of Umino that make him realize this, and when Naruto repeats their names in his mind he knows that these are Iruka's parents, lost on that fateful day.

The following names are perhaps said even more reverently in his head, and as the lists go down, further and further, he wonders how many of these ninja died in that attack.

There is one name he finds that makes his breath hitch, his heart skip a beat, and his hands shake even more than the names of Iruka's parents. It's a simple name, one that he knows shouldn't surprise him as much as it does. He runs his fingers over the symbols a few times, tracing the lines with quivering fingers.

There is a feeling in his stomach that he can't quite describe, an aching and longing that he feels should have faded quite a long time ago, but it squirms its way back inside him.

_Uzumaki Kushina._

Something inside of him, whether it's hope or just fanciful wishing, knows that this is the name of his mother. Although maybe she isn't, in reality, his mother. But a part of him likes to think that this name, this Uzumaki Kushina, had birthed him. That she died defending her village, as perhaps he one day will. That he wasn't simply abandoned by parents that didn't want a _demon spawn_ as their child.

He traces those symbols more times than he can count, and the words tumble inside of his mind, and there's a fierce sense of _pride_ that rushes through him, lighting his skin and lungs on fire as he breathes in the evening air.

The sun has set by now, and he barely notices as the chirping of crickets and cicadas grows louder, the moon shinging bright on his hair and skin. He sits for what might be hours, gazing at her name, whispering it over and over until he has the taste of it memorized on his tongue.

When he finally leaves, there's a lightness in his step that had been missing before. Some weight lifted on his shoulders that knows, perhaps next to the Sandaime, his mother is watching.

He hopes she'd be proud of him.

So Naruto promises to himself, and to her, to Uzumaki Kushina, that he'll work as hard as he can, he'll try his very best, to make sure that when he finally _does_ meet her, whether it's from battle or old age, that he'll be able to say, "I was the best I could be."

And maybe, just maybe, she'll give him a soft smile and say back to him, "I know."

Naruto will have no regrets.


End file.
